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TWO 



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REMARKABLE LECTURES 



DELIVERED IN BOSTON, 



BY DR. C. KNOWLTON, 



ON THE DAT OF 



HIS LEAVING THE JAIL AT EAST CAMBRIDGE, 



MARCH 31, 1833, 



WHERE HE HAD BEEN IMPRISONED, 



FOR PUBLISHING A BOOK. 






--##•♦ 



BOSTON: 

PUBLISHED BY A. KNEELAND, PROPRIETOR, AT THE 

OFFICE OF THE INVESTIGATOR, LOWER JULIEN HALL, 

CORNER OF CONGRESS AND MILK STREETS. 

1833. 






TWO 

REMARKABLE LECTURES 

DELIVERED IN BOSTON, 

BY DR. C. KNOWLTON, 

ON THE DAY OF 

HIS LEAVING THE JAIL AT EAST CAMBRIDGE, 

MARCH 31, 1833 5 

WHERE HE HAD BEEN IMPRISONED, 

FOB. PUBLISHING A BOOK. 



BOSTON: 

PUBLISHED BY A. KNEELAND, PROPRIETOR, AT THE 

OFFICE OF THE INVESTIGATOR, LOWER JULIEN HALL, 

CORNER OF CONGRESS AND MliLK STREETS. 

1833, 



^v° 



Entered according to an Act of Congress, in the year 1833, by 

ABNER KNEELAND, 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachusetts. . 



LECTURE 1. 



LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, 

Were I to trace the causes of my being now here, I should 
soon arrive at that hydra monster which, in my opinion, has been 
productive of more human misery than any other one thing — not 
under heaven do I say, as astronomy has swept that bible-cob- 
web from over our heads — but upon earth. I mean superstition. 

Superstition, thou graceless offspring of ignorance and 
knavery ! what of evil hast thou not done? 

The life's blood of how many millions hast thou caused to flow 
upon the field of battle? How many weeping widows, destitute 
orphans, and disconsolate lovers hast thou not made? The thou- 
sands thou hast consigned to the dungeon, the scaffold, the rack, 
and the blazing faggot, who can tell? The money, time, and 
thought, devoted to thee, what good might they not do in a better 
cause ? 

The number of thy lunatics, and of thy suicides, ! how great; 
and how intolerable the mental misery ? Indeed, how few have 
wholly escaped thy dark and dire forebodings ? Who can enu- 
merate the death-beds thou hast made most awfully wretched ? 
Indeed, if pulpit stories were true, thy fiendish influence is such, 
that even a Voltaire and a Paine could not die in peace. 

The peace and friendship of how many domestic and social 
circles hast thou not destroyed ? How many children of the la- 
boring poor have cried for bread which thou hast squandered upon 
those who toil not, neither do they spin ? 

A cloak and a protection to how many knaves hast thou not 
been ? As to low, selfish, time-serving hypocrites, thou hast ab- 
solutely been the occasion of them all. Thou art a kind of hobby- 
horse, upon which the crafty, and even the numskull have jumpt 
—yesijumpt, and rode triumphant into public favor and patronage, 
while the more honest, and the more enlightened reasoner has 
been left to {rudge behind. 

Thou hast caused the bosom of many a relative to heave with 
sorrow, because their dear friend, being instantly killed, had no 
time to repent, and thus escape thy " horrible pit." 



Science, as well as moral reform, thou hast but too successfully 
obstructed and opposed. Many of their worthy votaries thou hast > 
slighted, slandered, obscured, and perhaps reduced to want. 

And among all thy evil doings, as if the very devil were in thee 
— as in fact he is, and constitutes a part of thee — thou hast im- 
prisoned a citizen of this free country, ostensibly, for diffusing ' 
scientific knowledge of practical utility ; but, really, for giving 
thee a small pill in connection with it, slily wrapped up, which 
thou canst not swallow. I marvel not at thy uneasiness ; but I 
have a very poor opinion of thy policy. * 

Superstition is, indeed, a moral monster, at which all good 
women and men ought to aim a shot — not, as Paul says, " both 
in season, and out of season," — but on all suitable occasions. 

Because she begins to grow pale, and totter away in the form 
of unitarianisra, universalism, he. we ought not to lay down our 
weapons, fold up our arms, and sit down to enjoy our own seren- 
ity of mind. But, remembering what she has done, and of course 
may do, and, moved by the spirit of philanthropy towards even 
future generations, we ought to take courage from her present 
condition, and persevere unto the end. 

Let us see her fairly down, and rfearf, before-we leave her. For 
she is very tenacious of life, and, like the tortoise, will live with 
the multitude, at least nine days after philosophy has cut off her 
head. Or, 

She is like the poor man's coat — rent by free inquiry in every 
part, but botched up again, botch upon botch. And until the 
people in the suburbs, yea, in the very outskirts of the com- 
munity, are satisfied that the old coat never had any real 
ground-work, but is all a mere piece of patch-work, altogether 
out of fashion in the metropolis, theological botchers will continue 
to find employment. 

"But," says the religionist, " though I must admit that 
superstition is as hideous a monster as you represent, still this is 
nothing against religion ; and it is not fair to attribute to pure re- 
ligion, those evils, which, strictly speaking, have arisen only 
from superstition." To whom I reply : — 

If by pure religion you mean morality, and nothing more, you 

*The doctor had been most strangely and unjustly imprisoned in East Cam- 
bridge Jail, and even confined to hard labor, for publishing a book Entitled "Fruits 
of Philosophy, or the Private Companion of Young Married People/' It is not 
an obscene but a scientific work, and gives those practical instructions, which 
with very little trouble, subject the reproductive instinct to the will or wishes of 
individuals. Dr. K. is a very respectable practitioner, now settled in the town of 
Ashfield, Franklin Co. Mass. — Publisher. 



are right. But I apprehend, you mean something that comes 
within the definition of superstition. 

« Definition ! definition !— I never trouble my brain with any 
of vour scholastic subtleties. You free inquirers reason so much 
by the square and compass, and are so particular and exact about 
the meaning of words, I am out of all patience with you. How- 
ever, I will hear how you define superstition." 

Well superstition is a belief in that, of which our experience 
zives us' no knowledge ; and which cannot stand the test of rea- 
fon and free inquiry. To say it consists in certain creeds or 
doctrines, is to say the same thing, for creeds or doctrines are 
but opinions or beliefs expressed. . 

« Oh indeed, I have no kind of objection to this definition. 
It is very concise, very proper, and I see at once that I have no 
superstition about me. For though I believe in some things 
which never act upon our senses, and, of course, our experience 
gives us no knowledge of them ; still, what I believe, will stand 
the test of reason and free inquiry." 

Very well. Let it go at that. Now do be consistent— do 
prove your sincerity and the real strength and soundness of your 
convictions. Let us see no uneasiness while such inquiry is being 
made. And if a free inquirer want a school-house, a hall, or a 
meeting house, to lecture in, let him have it. Why should you 
refuse ? what can you fear ? 

« Fear hem fear, why 1 fear he would lead 

weak minds astray." . 

Lead weak minds astray, gracious heaven ! Do you lay claims 
to common sense, and yet not have sense to know, that it is not 
a property of error to find the mind right, and to set it wrong? 
so far from it, it is the reverse, exactly the reverse— "it is the 
property of truth to find the mind wrong, and to set it right. _ 

Whoever heard of the mind being right in relation to a physio- 
logical, geological, astronomical, or any other subject, (theologi- 
cal excepted,) in which the exercise of reason is required, and 
then set wrong by feeble error-much less by free inquiry? 
There is something in truth, so easy, so simple, so harmonious, 
that when one is fairly in possession of it, all the error from the 
pulpits of hell cannot shake it from him. 

Free inquiry strengthens the mind, and weak ones, of all others, 

stand the most in need of it. „.,,-.-• n i oa j 

No, my dear Sir, vou are not afraid that free inquiry will lead 
to error. It would be a libel on your understanding for me to 
say it. You know it is the road to truth, and for this very reason 
you dread it. You probably thought your opinions were strong 



— you probably thought they were truths which cannot be shaken; 
but when they are about to be put to the test — when free inquiry 
is proposed, you find you were mistaken, you find you dread it. 1 

Yes, my friends, every effort to hinder and obstruct free inqui- 
ry, is a downright acknowledgement in favor of the sect, for ac- 5 
tions speak truer than words. And I propose, that hereafter, all 
notices of such efforts, in the papers, be headed : An acknowl- i 
edgement m favor of the free inquirers. 

I intend this day to attack — and perhaps I shall rend — the very 
vitals of superstition, by explaining the phenomena of thought up- 
on the principle of Materialism, and by so doing, remove that \ 
which has most led men to believe in spiritualities : which belief 
is, indeed, about as essential to the continuance of superstition, as 
the heart is to animal life. 

In preparing for this purpose, I have not had the assistance of 
books ; I am not accustomed to speaking in public ; I have this 1 
day left a confinement by which I have for a season been seclu- 
ded from society. The subject i propose, has been so mystified 
by those who have started upon a wrong principle, that few have 
taken any interest in it ; and, indeed, almost every one regards it 
as a dry subject, altogether beyond our comprehension. Yet, 
such is its importance, that, notwithstanding all. these considera- 
tions, I hope to secure — not your prayerful, but your close and 
patient attention. 

I think it was Seneca who said, — u It is hard digging for pure 
waters at first, but after you approach them, they will rise up and 
meet you.' Permit me to say you will find it so, in respect to my 
lectures. 

Before I proceed to explain the phenomena of thought, it seems 
necessary and proper that I first give some idea of the organs im- 
mediately concerned; and very briefly state the grounds upon 
which materialism rests. 

By materialism, I mean the doctrine that the thinking part of 
man is material — not immaterial or spiritual ; and that when a [ 
man is said to die, he does indeed die, and of course, ceases to 
think or be conscious. 

The organs immediately concerned in the phenomena of thought, 
or I may as well say, the conscient phenomena, are the brain and 
nerves. The brain occupies the great cavity of the head or cra- 
nium ; and a prolongation of it extends downwards, the whole 
length of the spinal column, which prolongation is called the spi- 
nal marrow, or the pith of the back b*)ne. The nerves are small 
white cords, of little strength, which proceed both from the brain 
and the spinal marrow. 



There is a system of nerves within the body, which is con- 
nected with the brain and the spinal marrow, and which is unques- 
tionably the seat of those emotions or feelings which we some- 
times experience in the region of the heart. But these nerves are 
chiefly concerned in the functions of digestion, and the circulation 
of the blood ; and as I shall not treat of the passions, I say no 
more of them. 

We have, then, nothing to do but with the brain, the spinal 
marrow, and the nerves which proceed from them. You must 
bear in mind, that none of these parts are insulated from each 
other. They are all connected together. The brain is the ocean, 
the spinal marrow is the river Mississippi, and the nerves are the 
smaller streams which empty — some of them directly into the 
ocean, but by far the greater part into the river Mississippi. 

Most of the nerves branch out almost infinitely, so that you 
cannot prick the skin with the finest needle, without touching or 
disturbing some of these branches. This is proved by the fact 
that you feel the needle — by the fact that a sensation is excited. 

Time will not permit me to enter particularly into all the argu- 
ments in favor of materialism. I must be content with briefly 
stating the more important ones, that may occur to me. 

First. We have not the least knowledge of, and cannot even 
conceive of any being or agent — anything that can act or do any- 
thing — which is not material. You will understand that an im- 
material being has no extension, no solidity, none of the proper- 
ties of matter. It is, in truth, a no-thing. Language cannot ex- 
press a greater ahsurdity, than an immaterial being. If a thing 
be said to be extended, or to have the property of extension, but 
not that of solidity, or other material properties, why, it is so 
much space, empty space, which is but another term for nothing. 

Second. We have as much reason to believe — the same kind 
of facts, altogether, to prove, — that the brain is an organ of thought, 
as thatt he liver is an organ for the secretion of bile. And it is 
just as groundless, just as absurd, to say the brain is enabled to 
think by means of a sentient, a percipient or a thinking princi- 
ple superadded — as to say that the liver is enabled to secrete bile 
by the agency of a bile-secreting principle superadded ; or that 
the jaws are enabled to masticate our food, by means of a chewing 
principle superadded. 

The power of thinking is quite as feeble at birth as any other 
organic power. It increases with our growth ; it is the most 
perfect in manhood — and it becomes impaired as decrepid age 
comes on. And we have as good right and reason to say, it 



8 

ceases at death, as we have to say, that any other vital action or 
function ceases — as we have to say the liver ceases to secrete 
bile. 

Whatever disease, or whatever accident affects the lower and 
central part of the brain — the part from which the nerves pro- 
ceed, affects the power to think — sometimes arrests all thought, 
all consciousness ; and whatever restores the brain to a sound 
condition again, restores this power. It is true that the power to 
think sometimes continues nearly unimpaired to the end of life. 
But in all these cases the disease is seated in some part besides 
the lower and central part of the brain. — So may the liver con- 
tinue to secrete good bile to the very last. 

In all cases of idiotism, the brain is found imperfect on dissec- 
tion. And in all cases of insanity, on dissection are found struc- 
tural diseases of the brain, or at least, traces of diseased action. 
The ability to acquire knowledge, and to perform intellectual la- 
bor, corresponds with the developement and perfection of the 
brain. This is true, not only as it respects man, but the whole 
animal kingdom. 

Third. The phenomena of thought are essentially the same 
in kind, differing only in degree, in other animals, as in man ; yet 
no one contends for the superaddition of an immaterial or think- 
ing principle in a horse, a dog, a fly, an oyster, fee. and all 
admit that when they die, they cease to be conscious. Now if 
an immaterial principle be necessary in one case, it is impossible 
to see why it is not in all. And if this principle be in its nature 
immortal, then horses, flies, oysters, &c. have immortal souls ! 
if man have any. 

I will add, fourthly, that upon the hypothesis of an immaterial 
thinking principle, nothing like an explanation of the conscient 
phenomena has ever yet been given — no real advances in the phi- [ 
losophy of thought have been made — the subject has only been 
mystified. Metaphysicians have grovelled about in such a manner, 
and met with such insurmountable difficulties, as clearly shows 
that they were all in darkness and error. 

I am now to explain the conscient phenomena, in doing which, : 
much I shall say will be a mere statement of acknowledged facts ; 
and whatever is hypothetical, as some of our statements must be, 
since that which thinks is hidden from our view while it thinks, I 
hope will appear so reasonable in itself, or be so well supported • 
by arguments, as to gain your assent. 

But that none of your old notions may interfere, I tell you to 
begin with, that a man has no soul, no spirit, no mind, no mem- 
ory, no imagination — nothing at all within his skull but just a 



9 






I brain. We need none of this old machinery — it is mere rubbish — 
j it would only be in our way, so away with the whole concern en- 
J tirely ; and I will engage not to substitute in its stead anything 
I that is one tenth part so complicated. Truth is simple, plain, and 
; easy ; but error is complicated, mysterious, and difficult. 

We will suppose, then, that there is an individual in whom the 
least consciousness has not as yet been excited — of what age, is 
immaterial to our present purpose. An impression is now made 
J upon some one of his senses. This excites a peculiar action of 
the nerve or nerves of that sense, which action is instantly fol- 
lowed by an action of the lower and central part of the brain, 
which part I, for convenience, give a name, I call it the sensorium. 
This action of the nerve and the sensorium is what we call a sen- 
sation. 

I have now made several statements which require some at- 
tention, after which I shall make more. 

First. The impression, I say, excites a peculiar action of the 
nerves. How do I know? because when an impression is made 
upon any part which has no nerves, as the bones, the cartilages, 
and the nails, and in such a manner as not to affect other parts 
which have nerves, no sensation is excited. How do I know it 
is an action? Why, when a nerve is divided or compressed in 
any part of its course from the part upon which the impression is 
made, to the brain, no consciousness, no sensation is experienced. 
This proves that something passes along the nerve, and several 
facts which time will not permit me to detail, prove that this 
something is an action — an action of the nerve. It is indeed diffi- 
cult to conceive what else it can be ; and it is no more wonder- 
ful that an impression excites this action of the nerves, than thou- 
sands of other things in nature which no one questions — than it is 
that a slight scratch of the finger nail upon one end of a massy 
timber produces an atomic action throughout the whole timber ; as 
is proved by your hearing the scratching when you apply your ear 
to any part of the timber. But I say it is a peculiar action. Why ? 
whltefore ? how do I know ? This, indeed, is one of those sim- 
ple, ultimate facts, which none can but believe, and yet, while it 
requires no support from argument, it admits of none. That the 
action of the part upon which the impression is made, as also that 
of the brain, which instantly follows, is peculiar, is as certain as 
that inanimate bodies do not feel, do not experience any sensa- 
tion. I say it is peculiar, because I do not believe such action 
takes place in any part of nature except the nervous system. It 
is convenient to have a name for these peculiar actions of the 
nervous system, and I prefer that of conscient, because these ac- 



10 

tions constitute all our varied consciousnesses. Consciousness 
is nothing distinct from our sensations and thoughts. To think, \ 
to see, to hear, taste, smell, or feel, is to be conscious, and there; 
is no consciousness when you do not either of these. 

But although it is certain that a peculiar, a conscient action is 
excited in the organic extremity of a nerve, and in the brain, in i 
case of sensation, as certain as it is that we experience a sensa- i 
tion ; yet it is equally certain that this kind of action does not ex- 
tend all the way from the part upon which the impression is 
made to the brain. If it did, when I prick or burn my finger, a 5 
feeling — a painful feeling, would be experienced all along my arm.t 
Yet it is clear, as I have shown, that a something — an action, \ 
passes along the nerves in the arm. But as it is not a conscients 
action, it will not do to call it by this name ; we must give it 
another. I choose to call it a nervous action. We see, then,? 
that three things are necessary to the existence of a sensation, to 
wit, a conscient action of the organic extremity of a nerve, and 
also of the brain, and an intermediate nervous action. Yet a sen 
sation is very properly defined a conscient action of a nerve and 
the brain ; for although these three things are necessary to the ex^ 
istence of a sensation, still one of them, the nervous action, con- 
stitutes no part of a sensation. 

Another of my statements which requires some attention before 
I make more, is in effect this, that in case of sensation, the con- 
scient action of a nerve is instantly followed by a conscient action 
of the lower and central part of the brain, or, in one word, of the 
sensorium. On what grounds do I presume to state this ? 

That it is followed by some change in, or of, the thinking part 
of man is certain ; otherwise there would be no sensation — other- 
wise we should not know an impression had been made, or is be- 
ing made upon our senses — otherwise we could not say, I feel, I 
hear, &lc. Now if you can possibly conceive that there can be a 
change without action — if you can possibly conceive that a change 
of any being or agent is not an action, do it. I cannot. I hold 
it certain, then, that an action of the thinking part of man instant- 
ly follows a conscient action of the organic extremity of a nerve 
in case of sensation, but not immediately, because a nervous ac- 
tion intermediates. That this thinking part of man is the brain, 
is proved by those facts and arguments which prove the truth oi 
materialism, sufficient of which I have already advanced. But the 
facts which prove that the lower and central part of the brain is 
the seat of thought, I now proceed to state. 

Very much of the upper and outer part of the brain may be dis- 
eased or taken away, without impairing what are called the intel- 



11 

lectual, but quite as properly, the sensorial powers. Cut or 
pierce the upper and outer part of the brain in animals, and they 
I give no signs of even so much as feeling ; nor are any convul- 
j sions excited. But when the lower and central part of the brain 
is diseased, or compressed, or touched by an instrument, the in- 
tellectual faculties are deranged, enfeebled, or lost ; pain is pro- 
! duced, spasms and convulsions of the limbs, &c. are caused. 

Furthermore, all the nerves which proceed directly from the 
i brain, as the nerve of the eye, of the ear, of the organ of smell, 
I: and of taste, proceed from this part of the brain ; so, also, does 
the spinal marrow. Hence all the nerves of the body, either 
f directly or indirectly, centre in this part. We are not, however, 
| able to trace them, as distinct cords, to one point. 

I have now substantiated the statements I have made ; but in- 
! stead of proceeding just now with my explanations of the con- 
scient phenomena, I wish to digress a little. 

The function or office of the upper and outer part of the brain 
is, in all probability, that of secreting, that is, making a forming 
out of the materials brought to it by the circulation, or nervous 
fluid, (or energy, as some call it,) which fluid, unquestionably, has 
much to do with our dispositions or propensities. And herein lies 
the chance to explain those facts for which Doctors Gall and 
Spurzheim have contended. 

We all know that a man's propensities, as well as what all 
agree to call instincts, are very much under the influence of 
health and diet. The most stubborn may be humbled — not hum- 
ble through fear of future consequences — his very disposition and 
nature, as it were, may, for the time being, be changed by ab- 
stinence. The cowardly and effeminate may be made courageous 
and daring by a meat diet, and especially for a short time, by ar- 
dent spirits. You have all heard the story of the king who was 
about to go to war, and to ascertain what kind of meat it would 
be best to keep his soldiers on, he imprisoned three men who 
were as nearly alike in all respects, as he could find. One he kept 
on mutton, one on pork, and the other on beef. After a time he 
goes to the first, Well, what do they give you to eat ? Mutton 
sir, — to the second, pork, I live on pork, — to the third, well, what 
do you have to eat ? Beef, God damn you !* 

Now how is it that diet, &c. has such an influence upon one's 
character ? It does not diminish nor increase his knowledge. — 

* The point of this story depends on the manner the answers are given. 
The first man answers in a drawling, submissive tone ; the second speaks with 
considerable promptness and energy ; the third with great vehemence. 



12 

The purely intellectual operations are not directly influenced by 
it. It is probably by influencing the secretion of the nervous 
fluid, in the existence of which, all physiologists believe ; which 
fluid passes along the nerves to all the organs of the body which 
receive nerves. And although it does not really excite any dis- 
tinct sensation of itself alone, yet it has almost every thing to do 
with our inward feelings ; for some of which feelings we have no 
names. We have a feeling of health and activity, a feeling of 
lassitude, and of despondency ; and in some states of the sys- 
tem, those inward feelings called the moral passions, as sorrow, 
joy, he* are much more readily excited than in others — which 
states, I presume to be dependent upon the supply or deficiency 
of the nervous fluid. 

Now if one part, or as Gall and Spurzheim would say, organ, 
of the brain, supply one bodily organ or system of organs, with 
nervous fluid and another part another organ, and so on, as is 
probably the case, we can see how one part of the brain, being 
unusually developed, may have an influence upon the individual's 
moral character. 

I must believe in the unity of that which thinks. I cannot 
believe there are two or more separate parts or organs of the 
brain in which those changes occur which constitute our 
thoughts. If there were, why might we not have (as any one 
may satisfy himself he cannot) two or more thoughts at a time ? 
and if two thoughts, why not two trains of thoughts ? and if this 
were the case, then we should be double-thinking men ; and 
while one was studying mathematics, the other might write poe- 
try, for aught I can see. 

1 now proceed with my explanations. I have already gone so 
far as to define a sensation, a conscient action of a nerve and 
the brain. Inow wish this were the proper place to state the fact, 
that a thought or idea (both the same thing) is a conscient ac- 
tion of the brain alone. But as truth will have it, I must now call 
your undivided attention to the subject of perception ; in treating 
of which I may at first appear to have forgotten my definition of 
sensation. Yet, if you do but have patience, I will tell a straight 
story in the end, if I may but have my own way of telling it. 
My object is to talk in such a manner as to be understood. I 
care nothing about your rules of rhetoric, oratory, &c. I am not 
preaching — I am lecturing. 

I am now about to lead you through the most difficult part of 
my system of metaphysics, and if you can but keep the track, you 
will do well. A part of the difficulty I have to contend with, is 
owing to our not using certain words at all times in precisely the 



13 

same sense. We generally mean by the word brain, all the ner- 
vous matter within the cranium ; and in this sense I have used it 
all along in treating of sensation. But I have said that the nerves 
— some of them directly, and some indirectly, by way of the spi- 
nal marrow — concentrate in the lower and central part of the brain. 
It appears, then, that the sensorial extremities of the nerves are 
within the cranium ; and, of course, constitute a part of the brain, 
in the sense I have used this word thus far. But I am now about 
to speak of the sensorial extremities of the nerves, not as parts of 
the brain, but as distinct organs. And I now tell you distinctly, 
that what I mean by the sensorium, does not include the sensorial 
extremities of the nerves, but it is that part with which the senso- 
rial extremities of the nerves are connected, and which is the seat 
of thought. It is as the hub of a wheel, while the nerves are the 
spokes. 

But you are not to suppose, that on dissecting the brain, we 
come to an organ, the outline of which is distinctly marked, and 
which all anatomists call the sensorium ; nor are you to suppose 
that we can trace the nerves, as distinct cords, running any con- 
siderable distance into the substance of the brain. The most we 
can say is, that on dissection, the lower and central part of the 
brain is found to be a white medullary substance, unlike the other 
parts, but gradually lost in the other parts ; that the nerves and 
spinal marrow take their rise from this medullary part ; and that 
facts prove that thinking goes on, somewhere in this part. I do 
not pretend to know the precise situation nor size of the part 
which thinks ; but whatever its size or situation may be, it is that 
which I call the sensorium. 

Now recall to mind, thq| is, think again, that the sensorium is 
the hub, the nerves are the spokes, and those extremities of the 
nerves, which are connected with the sensorium, are the sensorial 
extremities, while those extremities which extend to the various 
organs of the body, are the organic extremities. 

I will now give you the real, nice, metaphysical definition of 
sensation — the one I have already given, is a coarse, every-day 
concern. A sensation is a conscient action of the organic and 
sensorial extremities of a nerve. A perception is more than this. 
There may be a sensation without a perception, but not a percep- 
tion without sensation ; for a perception is a sensation, together 
| with a conscient action of the sensorium, which action of the sen- 
I sorium is excited by the sensation. To simply say, it immediately 
| follows, or accompanies the sensation, will not do, — I will illus- 
| trate. „My thinking part, my sensorium, is wholly and most in- 
j tensely engaged in playing a game of chequers, one action or 
.2 



14 

thought follows another in quick and uninterrupted succession. 
The clock strikes in the room where I am. Now the striking of! 
the clock, in all probability, excites a conscient action of the or 
ganic and sensorial extremities of my auditory nerves, which is a j 
sensation. This sensation is certainly followed by some conscient ] 
action of my sensorium, and if it be one that is excited by the ; 
striking of the clock, then I have a perception ; but if it be a 
thought relating to my game of chequers, there is no perception, 
but a sensation and a thought ; and, this being the case, I am 
some surprised, perhaps, on looking at the clock after getting 
through with my game, to see that it has struck, — I say, I did not J 
notice it, — I did not perceive it. 

Perceptions can be remembered ; for in perceptions, an action 
is excited in that part which thinks — which remembers. But 
mere sensations, I hold, cannot be remembered. I believe that 
thousands of impressions are made upon our senses every day, \ 
for which we are not a whit the wiser— a man travelling the high- 
way in a profound study, or, indeed, in no particular study, has 
the mere sight of thousands of insignificant and common objects, 
of which he can afterwards have no ideas, and could not say he * 
had seen them. And why ? Because no act of the thinking part 
was excited by the objects. 

I know my views of perception can never be proved by direct ' 
experiment, for the instant any one should endeavor to ascertain 
if he could have a mere sensation of any object, sound, flavor, &c» 
that instant, he would have a perception of it ; but I will offer 
some considerations, in support of them. 

~"~ Every person may readily satisfy himself that he can have two 
or more sensations, and even think, at the same identical instant. 
fle may see a man, hear him speak, and have ideas of the objects 
the man is speaking of, at the same instant ; but he cannot think 
about the man, and think of something else at the same instant. 

It is agreed on all hands, that the thinking part of man, what- 
ever is nature, or whatever name you may give it, can have but 
one idea at a time, or, as some would say, can be in but one state 
at a time, or, as I would say, can act but one action, that is, 
think but ont thought at a time. Yet, is not seeing an act of that 
which sees, is not hearing an act of that which hears, and is not 
thinking an act of that which thinks, &tc? 

Now, as the mere sensations of seeing and hearing — to say 
nothing of others — may exist, while the individual is thinking, and 
as but one conscient action can take place in the thinking :?art at 
the same time, it follows, that the organs or seats of mere sensa- 
tions are not the same as the organ or seat of thought. A fact 



il 



15 

which disproves the doctrine of soul ; but how so, I cannot stop 
to show. 

I say, then, there may be sensations, without any act of that 
which thinks — nay, more, if an impression excite anything more 
than a sensation, it excites a perception, so that, strictly speak- 
ing, an action of the sensorium or thinking part, is never excited, 
in case of mere sensation. But we all know, that impressions do 
sometimes, perhaps for the most part — excite an action or change 
in the thinking part. Now, as in all these cases, something more 
than a sensation is excited, it is necessary to have some name for 
that — the whole of that — which is excited, hence the word per- 
ception. 

Let us now stop, and consider how far we have got. The 
nerves are the spokes, the sensorium is the hub. A sensation is 
a conscient action of both ends of a spoke, and a perception is a 
conscient action of both ends of a spoke, and of the hub too. 
The sensorium is the organ of thought ; and only one action or 
thought takes place in it at the same time. 

These views have not been supported by all the arguments 
that might be advanced, but by such, as time and circumstances 
will permit. You will be better satisfied with them, as we get 
along ; and let me here request you not to be bothering your- 
selves with the question, How can an action of a material organ 
be a thought ? &ic. I will make this matter perfectly easy, in my 
next lecture. 

There are five species of sensation, and also, as a matter of 
course, of perception. That is, the spokes are of five different 
kinds of timber, so that an action is excited in some of them, only 
by light, in others, only by sound, in others, only by odors, and 
so on. These five species are named seeing, hearing, smelling, 
tasting and feeling. The nerves of feeling are distributed to such 
different and distant organs, and are excited by such different 
means, that we may very properly say there are several varieties 
of feeling, as a feeling of external bodies, of heat, cold, hunger, 
thirst, fcc. Hunger and thirst being excited by internal causes, 
are to be classed with the organic passions, of which I shall not 
treat. 

Now what is a thought ? A thought, or idea, is a conscient ac- 
tion of the sensorium alone. I say alone, that is, it is not con- 
nected with a sensation as its cause, at the time. Every con- 
scient action of the sensorium at some time or other, and perhaps 
a thousand times, has been caused by, and connected with an 
action of a nerve ; but at such time or times, it constituted not a 
thought, but a part of a perception. It was that which, being 



16 

hitched on to a sensation, made a perception of it. But when a 
conscient action of the sensorium occurs alone — when it is not 
excited by a sensation, or, if you rather, by an impression, it is 
what we call a thought or idea. 

The grand question now arises, what causes it so to occur, — 
what gives rise to our ideas ? I answer, the sensorial tendencies. 
Mark that, the sensorial tendencies give rise to all those actions 
of the sensorium which constitute our thoughts or ideas. These 
tendencies are the sum and substance of my machinery in explain- 
ing the intellectual phenomena. They remove all mystery. 
Several philosophers had gotten an indistinct glimpse of them, 
long ago, but not such as to give them " a local habitation and a 
name." I must begin a little way off, and come along in such a 
manner, that you will have a clear and correct view of the 
sensorial tendencies. After you have obtained such a view, I 
shall be able to despatch business more to your satisfaction. 

The animal system is much influenced by habit, that is, having 
acted in any way, it the more readily acts in the same way again. 
Habit may be considered under the two divisions of moral habit, 
and organic habit. A man having done a crime, is the more 
likely to do another. This is an instance of moral habit. When 
a person commences playing upon a piano, it requires much 
attention and effort, that he move his fingers correctly; but after 
much playing, little or no attention is necessary. Here is an in- 
stance of organic habit. Now there is not, probably, in the 
whole animal kingdom, any animal, or any organ, that is more 
readily influenced by habit, than the sensorium of man. This is 
so much under the influence of habit (after the brain has acquired 
that degree of firmness which it does at the age of four or five 
years,) that when a conscient action is excited in it, perhaps 
only once, it acquires such a strong disposition or tendency to act 
after the same manner again, — to act the same action again — that 
it may thus act without the impression which first excited it. 
This tendency I call a sensorial tendency. 

It is not a matter of speculation, but of certainty, that percep- 
tions produce more or less lasting effects in the thinking part of 
man, which effects, afterwards, give rise to ideas. We all know 
that by seeing a cat, for instance, we are enabled afterwards to 
have an iaVea of a cat. Should there be any dispute about these 
effects, it must be about their nature, and the name most proper 
to give them ? not about their reality. I say, then, the sensorial 
tendencies are realities — they do for a certainty exist, and give 
rise to ideas. If any one dislike the name, let him give us a bet- 
ter. As to their precise nature, I offer no other opinion than that 



17 

they are tendencies to action, of a material organ ; or, I may as 
well say, an organ, leaving out the word material, for, though we 
have immaterial beings as a whole, if we believe some, yet as these 
beings have no parts, I suppose they have no organs. It would, 
however, chime well with the absurdities of immaterialism, to say, 
" Immaterial beings have no parts, to be sure, but still they have 
organs ; " and then bring that scripture to prove it, which says, 
Dives died and was buried, and in hell he lifted up his eyes ! &c. 

The opinion that the sensorial tendencies are tendencies to 
action, of an organ, is supported by all the facts and arguments 
in favor of materialism — as well as the absolute impossibility of 
conceiving how any» effects can be produced in an immaterial 
thing, which effects can give rise to ideas. 

Though this be the only opinion I will offer, as to the pre- 
cise nature of the sensorial tendencies, still I will remark that they 
remind me of a little green stick of wood, which is more, easily 
bent after having been once bent, than before. The analogy I 
know is slight ; and as these tendencies are the result of animal, 
organic action, we cannot expect to find anything out of the ani- 
mal system, much analogous to them. 

Perceptions, then, give rise to our sensorial tendencies, of 
which there are also five species, as w T ell as of sensations and 
perceptions. Tendencies to optical ideas, tendencies to audial 
ideas, tendencies to ideas of flavors, odors, hardness, cold, &c. 

Our optical ideas seem to be the most distinct of any, and it 
would almost seem they were the only ones thought of by philos- 
ophers, while treating of the intellectual phenomena. 

To further illustrate what has been said of sensation, percep- 
tion, and sensorial tendencies, I will suppose that I stand facing 
the Boston State House, with my eyes open ; — rays of light are 
reflected by the house, which pass through the transparent coats 
and humors of my eye ball, and fall upon the retina, which is an 
expansion of the optic nerve. This much is an impression 
upon the sense of vision. These rays of light excite a conscient 
action of the organic and sensorial extremities of the optic nerve. 
This much is a mere sensation. AnaMf the sensorial tendencies 
I already possess, are not so strong as to keep up an uninterrupted 
train of ideas foreign to the house, in despite of the impression 
which is being made ; or, as some would say, if my mind is not 
wholly occupied with thoughts foreign to the house, the action 
excited by the rays of light would extend beyond the sensorial 
extremity of the optic nerve — it would extend into the sersorium, 
in which case I should have a perception of the house ; and if 
this action of the sensorium so excited should call up, suggest, 
2* 



18 

or cause to occur, other actions or ideas relating to the house, 
then I should think about the house. I should not merely per- 
ceive it, not merely observe it, but attend to it. 

The action, excited by the rays of light, extending into the hub i 
or sensorium, the sensorium becomes disposed, or acquires a ten- 
dency, to act this action again, and, consequently, after I get into 
the country, this action of the sensorium may recur without the 
action of the optic nerve, constituting an idea of Boston State i 
House. 

You now understand what I mean by sensorial tendencies, and i 
how we acquire them. A little more discourse about them, and 
I leave this head. 

Unquestionably, some brains are so well organized, as to ac- 
quire sensorial tendencies much more readily than others ; but, 
generally speaking, the more impressions the more perceptions, 
and the more perceptions the more sensorial tendencies ; for 
every new or different perception causes a new tendency of more 
or less strength. 

The strength of tendencies is increased by repetition of action, 6 
whether the action be re-excited by the impression which first 
excited it, or whether the tendency itself give rise to it. Thus, 
having heard a stranger's name, you can fix it in your mind, as 
the unphilosophical expression is, by merely thinking it over ; so, 
too, the school-boy, having read his lesson over so many times as \ 
barely to be able to recite it, may get it at his tongue's end, by 
merely thinking it over. 

When 1 say, a tendency is strong, I mean it readily becomes 
operative; that is, gives rise to action or thought. Tendencies 
become, weak by inaction. I shall account for this fact hereafter. 

There are two kinds of relation between the sensorial tenden- 
cies. When I say, two or more tendencies are related, I mean 
nothing more than the simple, undeniable fact, that they are apt 
to become operative together, that is, to give rise to ideas in close 
succession. 

We all know that when we have seen, even at distant times 
and places, objects that ar^u related by similarity of look, or in 
any other obvious way, an idea of one of these objects is apt to 
be immediately followed by ideas of the others. This kind of 
relation, for want of a more classical name, I call objective. 

Again, having seen dissimilar objects, heard dissimilar sounds, 
&c. at the same time, or even thought of these dissimilar things at 
the same time; whenever afterwards, we think of one of them, we are 
apt to think of the others. This kind of relation, I call timaL 
All language, whether spoken or written, unless hieroglyphics be 



19 

considered language, is founded on this kind of relation between 
our sensorial tendencies. The word man is no more like the 
thing man, than mount Vesuvius is like a pocket handkerchief; 
but the spoken or written word man, instantly calls up the idea of 
the thing man, because the thing man has been seen or described 
at the time, when the word man has been spoken or seen— at the 
time, for instance, when our nurses pointed at the thing man, and 
said, " there is a man." 

As I am now about to close this lecture, I will briefly recapitu- 
late the principal points which I wish you to remember. 1st. 
A sensation is a conscient action of the organic and sensorial ex- 
tremities of a nerve ; of which we may have more than one at 
the same time. 2nd. A perception is the same, with the addition 
of a conscient action of the sensorium, which action of the senso- 
rium is excited by the sensation, or, if you please, by the impress- 
ion which excites the sensation. We can have but one percep- 
tion at a time. 3rd. The sensorium, by action, aequirestendencies 
to act, which tendencies are of themselves sufficient to give rise to 
actions. 4th. An action of the sensorium alone^ is a thought or 
idea. 5th. In no intellectual operation does any thing more take 
place than one sensorial action after another — not two or more at 
the same instant. 6th. That as certain ideas are apt to occur in 
close succession, or, as some would say, as one idea suggests 
another, we say the sensorial tendencies are related, of which re- 
lation there are at least .two kinds, objective and timal. 

In my next lecture, I shall consider the question, How can 
an action of the brain be a thought ? I shall show what takes place 
in us when we are said to remember, judge, imagine, believe, &c. 
I shall touch upon volition, free agency, personal identity, con- 
science, seeing spectres or ghosts, &c. 



LECTURE II. 



LADIES AND GENTLEMEN; P 

In my former lecture I compared the lower and central part of b 
the brain, which part I call the sensorium, to the hub of a wheel, ) 
and the nerves, which proceed from this hub to all parts of the) 
body, to the spokes of a wheel. That extremity of a nerve 
which is connected with the sensorium, I called the sensorial ex- 
tremity, and the other extremity which proceeds to, or is distrib- s 
uted to some organ of the body, I called the organic extremity. 
I showed that a sensation is a conscient action of the organic and 
sensorial extremities of a nerve ; and that we can have two or 
more sensations, for instance, see and hear, at the same time. 
Yea, and even think or have ideas while we have sensations — | 
which fact disproves the doctrine of an unextended soul. I show- 
ed that a perception is the same as a sensation, with the addition i 
of a conscient action of the hub or sensorium ; and that we cans 
have but one perception at a time. That the sensorium is so 
much under the influence of habit, that by action it very readily 
acquires tendencies to act after the same manner again ; which 
tendencies called sensorial tendencies are of themselves sufficient to 
give rise to actions. That a conscient action of the sensorium alone \ 
is a thought or idea. That in no intellectual operation does any thing [ 
more take place than one sensorial action after another. That as 
certain sensorial actions or ideas are apt to occur in close succession, j 
pr, as some would say, as ideas suggest each other, we say the sen 
sorial tendencies are related, of which relation there are two kinds, 
objective and timal. 

To clear away, and to have out of the way, all old rubbish, I 
told you distinctly, that a man has no soul, no mind, no spirit, no 
memory, no imagination — nothing at all in his head but just a 
brain and sensorial tendencies, and not even these latter until his 
brain has been put in exercise by impressions upon the senses. 

I am now, first to attend to the question with which I suspect 
you have been foolishly bothering yourselves, for (my own stu- 



21 

pidity was once perplexed with it,) namely, how can an action 
of the brain be a thought ? 

My friends, I would ask how an action, change, or state, of 
anything else, can be a thought ? how can anything — I care not 
by what name you call it — how can any thing be a thought ? how 
can anything be what it is, or as it is ? how can fire be hot, water 
wet, the rays of the sun light — how can a body passing from one 
place to another, be a motion of such body ? A thought or idea 
is but another name for a peculiar action of the thinking part of 
man, the very nature of which action is to be what it is — is to be 
what we call a thought. That a conscient action of the brain is 
a thought, is just one of those simple, ultimate facts, or laws of 
nature, which requires no explanation and admits of none, — be- 
cause there is nothing to explain — because the fact is simple. To 
explain any operation of nature is to point out hidden changes 
which take place between known changes. But where 
there are no intermediate and hidden changes, none of course, 
are to be pointed out — no explanation to be given. 

It is certainly quite as easy to conceive how an action of an 
organ which we know to exist, can be a thought, as it is how an 
action or state of an unextended soul, of which we can have no 
conception, can be a thought. But the truth is, the difficulty of 
conceiving how anything can be a thought — if, indeed, you will 
say there is any difficulty about it — has nothing to do with the 
question, what thinks 9 Facts are to decide this question ; and 
as I have before said, we have as much reason to believe, the 
same kind of facts altogether to prove, that the brain thinks, as 
we have that the liver secretes bile. 

If time would permit, I would here take a wide range. I would 
not simply state, but labor to convince you, that matter is nothing 
more nor less than a combination of properties, as extension, so- 
lidity, he. That to talk about the essence of matter is to talk 
about nothing — to utter nonsense. That matter unites with mat- 
ter. in three different modes, mechanical, chemical, and organic. 
That as chemical union gives rise to properties peculiar to itself, 
which we call chemical properties, so does organic union give rise 
to organic properties peculiar to itself. That as chemical union 
gives rise to the property of acidity, for instance, so does organic 
union give rise to the property of sensibility. 

I would then go one step farther, and convince you, that after 
all, these properties which arise from combinations, whether 
chemical or organic, are in reality nothing — nothing but things 
of our own making. I would show you that all the reason we 
have to say that certain bodies, or any bodies, possess such and 



22 

such properties, is because they suffer or produce such and such 
changes. We say oil of vitriol, for instance, possesses the prop- 
erty of acidity, and why ? because it changes vegetable blue col- 
ors to red ; unites with, and neutralizes alkaline substances, pro- 
duces a certain sensation in the mouth, &c. So too, we say 
the nervous system possesses the property of sensibility, because 
impressions upon the senses excite conscient actions in it. 

But acidity is nothing distinct from oil of vitriol ; indeed, it is 
nothing but the oil of vitriol acting as it does. If it did not act 
or do thus, it would not be oil of vitriol, and we should not say 
it possesses the property of acidity. So, too, sensibility is noth- 
ing distinct from the nervous system. It is a simple, ultimate 
fact, or law of nature, that when the nervous system is in the con- ;) 
dition called sound, impressions upon the senses excite those ac- j 
tions or changes in it, which we call conscient ; and for this only [ 
reason, we say it has a property of being thus excited, which 
property of our own making, as it were, we name sensibility. 
This is the correct view of the subject. But it is putting the 
cart before the oxen to say, as many do, that impressions excite 
conscient actions or sensations, because the nervous system is 
sensible, or possesses the property of sensibility. 

You see I have explained sensation, perception, he. without [ 
even mentioning the word sensibility. It is a piece of machinery 
which is convenient enough after it is rightly understood ; but it 
in reality helps to explain nothing— it points out no hidden changes, 
nor does it excite any idea, except of the word's own sound 
and appearance. When I say ox, you have an idea of a four-leg- 
ged animal, but when I say sensibility, what ideas have you be- 
sides the audial and optical ideas of the word itself — that is, an 
idea how it sounds when spoken, and an idea how it looks on 
paper ? 

But you will say there must be something different in the ner- 
vous system from what there is in other textures or organs, else 
why do impressions excite sensations in that, but not ia these ? 
Now what is this different something ? The answer is very easy. 
It is a different organization. But to ask why impressions excite 
sensations in such organic texture as the nervous system, but in 
no other texture, is to ask another unphilosophical question. It 
is to question about another ultimate fact, or law of nature ; and 
of course, the only, and the sufficient answer is, it is so, because 
it is so. When we arrive at ultimate facts, we come to the end 
of inquiry. We have not only discovered all we can, but all 
there is. A deity himself could not explain where there is noth- 
ing to be explained. He could but say, it is so, because it was 



23 

my will it should be so ; and this much I could say, if I supposed 
any of you would be a whit the wiser for it. 

I think we can now pass along without being troubled with the 
question, How can an action of the nervous system be a sensation 
or a thought ? But I wish to take some notice of the word Life, 
and perhaps the present is the most suitable place. 

I am much inclined to the opinion that there was once a first 
man ; but I will not discuss the question whether a first something 
else made him outright, L at a job, and thei\ dissected out one of 
his ribs, and made a woman of it ! or whether he was the result 
of a long series of natural operations, such as none of us have 
seen concluded : though such a series may at this time be going 
on, and by improvements upon the ourang outang, or some other 
animal, may, in a few thousands or millions of years, be comple- 
ted. I take man as he is ; and I say what I do know, when I 
say that organization gives rise to organization ; just as infectious 
matter gives rise to infectious matter, or as fire gives rise to fire. 
Now what we mean by organization, is, matter organically united, 
in the form of fluids (as the blood) or organs and systems of or- 
gans. And when it is so united, the compound or being suffers, 
and produces such changes, in a word, does such things, that we 
ascribe to it several organic properties, which we name sensibility, 
contractility, &c. As it propagates its species, we might say it 
has a generative property. 

Now when any organic body or being possesses all the organic 
properties natural to it, it is said to be alive, or to possess life. 
There is no one thing for the word life to signify ; and it is put- 
ting the effect for the cause, to say that life gives rise to organ- 
ization. It is organization that gives rise to those properties, or 
those phenomena, which lead us to say a being has life. When 
from any cause an organic body undergoes such changes that it 
no longer exhibits these phenomena, it is said to be dead. This 
is the whole story. 

I now proceed with the intellectual operations, and first, of re- 
membering. The renowned Locke seemed to think that a man 
has something in his head which ought to be called memory, into 
which ideas are packed away, like mackerel in a barrel, to be 
again brought forward, as occasion may require, into the " mind's 
presence chamber," by the very cask which contains them. But 
he bad good sense enough to laugh at his own notions, and to tell 
us that, after all, an idea stored away in the memory is just no 
idea at all. The fact is, Mr. Locke, as all other metaphysicians 
ever have been — was all in the dark, and with his utmost ingenu- 
ity, which was great, could not make his ends meet, for want of 



24 

the sensorial tendencies. These give rise to actions — these give 
rise to all our ideas ; and when they give rise to an optical idea \ 
of a man, (and the same of other visible things) we are said to i 
remember how the man looks ; if they give rise to an idea of his 
name, also, and perhaps of some place in which we have seen j 
him, we are said to remember the man. In remembering an j 
event, we have a sense of time, which has elapsed since the event ; < 
not an idea of time, for as time is not a thing that can make an 
impression upon our senses, and thereby excite an action of the 
sensorium, strictly speaking, we can have no idea of time ; but sev- \ 
eral ideas occurring together constitute what may be called a sense 
of time. When a man remembers a past event, (and he never j 
remembers any other) his sense of time is composed, as it were, 
of ideas that have been created — or rather the sensorial tenden- . 
cies which give rise to them — by impressions made upon his sen- 
ses since the time of the event. Had he instantly fell into a 
state of profound apoplexy, and remained so ten years, or ten 
thousand years, on coming to, and being asked when the event 
happened, his answer would be, just now. 

If we must say, that remembering is something different from 
simple, every-day thinking, perhaps we cannot do better than to 
say, that to remember any thing, is to have several ideas relating 
to that thing. It is not a memory, however, that give^riseto 
these ideas, but sensorial tendencies. 

Remembering is not an act of the will, for in the first place, : 
there is no will, philosophically speaking^ but if there were, 
you all know you cannot always remember things when you wish 
to. Nor can you always think, think of, or remember a man's name, 
for instance, when you know it. I mention this, to ask what it 
is to know a thing when you cannot think of it. It is to have 
sensorial tendencies to think of the thing, which tendencies do 
not become operative — do not give rise to actions or ideas on 
the occasion. 

I very much suspect, that an inconsiderate immaterialist w r ould 
attempt to refute my views, by telling us that an old man can re- 
member the events of his youth, yet every particle of his youth- 
ly brain has been removed, a little at a time, by a process call- 
ed absorption ; and that another brain was as gradually formed in 
its stead, by a process called nutrition. And, how is it, he would 
exultingly ask, that the new brain comes to have the sensorial 
tendencies of the former one, seeing that the. impressions which 
gave rise to these tendencies have never operated on the new 
brain ? I will answer — I will even turn this matter to my own 
advantage. 



25 

I admit that absorbent vessels are found in every part of the 
system but the brain, and probably the whoLe matter of the sys- 
tem — except for the present the brain — is changed as often as 
once in seven years, or thereabouts. But large as the brain is, 
and as much blood as is sent to it — it being one fifth of all the 
blood — it is a remarkable fact, that no such vessels can be found 
within the skull. It is only from analogy, then, that we infer, 
that the matter of the brain is changed . Yet I admit it — I hope 
it is so. It enables me to account for our entirely forgetting 
many things, so that when another person attempts to remind us 
of them, we can have no idea about them ; which fact I defy an 
immaterialist to account for, in any probable manner. 

But how is it, that an old man is enabled to remember many 
of the events of his youth ? It is because, that throughout his 
whole life, he has thought of these events more frequently than 
his brain has changed. When a former brain was but partly gone, 
its. sensorial tendencies were only weakened. The stronger ones 
were still sufficient to give rise to action, and they did so. This 
action or repetition of action, renewed their strength, and thus 
the sensorial tendencies have been kept good, through all the 
changes the brain is supposed to have undergone. 

Many of the weaker sensorial tendencies, however, not renew- 
ing their strength by action, were rendered so very weak by the 
gradual removal of the brain in which they were first created, that 
after a time it became utterly impossible for them to give rise to 
actions or thoughts, and so they were finally carried clear off — 
the impressions which first gave rise to/ them are completely for- 
gotten, and the man is as ignorant as if these impressions had 
never been made. 

After the brain becomes dry and stiff, as it often does from old 
age, hard drinking, &c, impressions produce such weak sensorial 
tendencies, that the events of yesterday cannot be remembered ; 
yet the events of youth having been thought of frequently during 
a long life, such strong tendencies to think of them have been 
produced, that the infirm old man can think of events of his 
youth, but, as I have just said, not those of yesterday. I should 
be pleased to see how an immaterialist would attempt to account 
for this fact. 

To judge is to think of all the facts relating to the thing judged 
of, in an uninterrupted order. 

I say all the facts, that is, all you know — all you have senso- 
rial tendencies sufficiently strong to give rise to ideas of. If you 
know all the facts which have any bearing on the subject or ques- 
tion, and the strength and relation of your sensorial tendencies be 
3 



26 

such as to give rise to ideas of all these facts on an occasion, you 
are qualified to judge Correctly. Otherwise you may err. If you 
know a fact, that is, have tendencies to think of it, still if these 
tendencies be so weak as not to give rise to actions or ideas, 
when forming an opinion or judging, why, they are of no use to 
you — your opinion will be the same as if you were perfectly igno- 
rant of the fact. 

It is true, that when your opinion or judgment is asked rela- 
tive to any question, you need not always think of every particu- 
lar fact relating to the question, before you are prepared, and well 
prepared, to give your opinion ; for you may have previously 
summed up these facts, as it were, some of them into one con- 
clusion, some into another, and so on ; so that when your opinion 
is asked, you have only to think of these conclusions, in a con- 
nected order. Or, perhaps you have previously not only formed 
a number of minor conclusions from the facts, but from these 
conclusions have come to the grand, final conclusion, so that you 
are ready to give your opinion as soon as asked. 

You must take some of my statements on trust. I have not 
time to illustrate and prove all of them, and I will not labor ta 
prove to you, that judging differs from common every-day 
thinking, only in thinking over the facts relating to a question, or 
minor conclusions drawn from them, in a connected order. 

But. I wish to call your attention to the comparing of ideas. 
It seems to have been the opinion of Locke and others, that 
judging consists in comparing one idea with another, and clearly 
distinguishing the difference between them. 

But I say there is no such thing as comparing one idea with 
another — 'tis all nonsense. All admit that we never have but one 
idea at a time ; how, then, can we compare one idea with anoth- 
er ? how can we compare that which is, with that which is not ? 
or, in other words, how r can we compare something with nothing? 
Moreover, the very act of comparing, would be an act of that 
which thinks — indeed, it would, itself, be an idea, so that when 
it were in being, there would be no idea, not even one, to be 
compared. I wonder what is the difference between two noth- 
ings- 

The truth is, to have two ideas in immediate connection, is to 
be immediately sensible of a difference between them. Such is 
their very nature. When you have an idea of a horse, and an 
idea of a cat, no third act of the brain or thinking part, is neces- 
sary that you may be sensible of a difference between them, nor 
is there any third act for the words being sensible, to signify. To 
have two ideas, without being immediately sensible of a difference 



27 

between them, and this too without any third act of the thinking 
part, is, in fact, to have but one idea twice. I say, then, there 
is no such thing as comparing ideas. 

Philosophically speaking, there is no such thing in man as an 
imagination ; but to imagine, is to substitute ideas of things 
which have acted upon our senses, for ideas of things which nev- 
er did. And to substitute an idea of one thing for an idea of 
another thing, is but to have an idea of one thing in connection 
with an idea of the name of another thing. 

For illustration, I have an idea of a black scaly body, two 
crooked legs with cloven feet, a long bearded tail, long open 
jaws, &c. and think of the word devil. I call it the devil — and 
doing this, is imagining how the devil looks. It is creating a 
devil in my own imagination. 

We have no real idea of things that never made impressions 
upon our senses. What we call ideas of such things are not real 
but substituted ideas of them. To be sure, the ideas are real in 
themselves, but not real ideas of such things. A man who has 
seen Boston can have a real idea of Boston ; but if he have not 
seen London, he has but a substituted idea of that city. Now 
bring him to Boston in his sleep, and when he awakes, he will 
know where he is ; but carry him in his sleep to London, and 
when he awakes he will not know where he is. Much more needs 
be said under the head of imagining, but I must pass to the sub- 
ject of belief. 

To think over congruous or harmonizing thoughts is to believe. 
There is no particular act of the sensorium for the word belief 
to signify. But when a man has occur a train of congruous 
thoughts or ideas relating to any subject, his consciousness is such 
that he says, I believe. But if the facts or statements he thinks 
of — in other words, if his thoughts are contradictory or incongru- 
ous, his consciousness is, of course, different, and not such as 
leads him to say, / believe. I say his consciousness is, of course, 
different ; for as I said in my first lecture, consciousness consists 
in, and is nothing but thoughts, perceptions, or sensations. 

In some cases, the facts known and thought of, relating to a 
given subject or question, lean opposite ways so evenly, that is, 
contradict, counterbalance, or neutralize each other so completely, 
that there is no belief one way or the other. To be in such a 
state of information concerning a question, is to be what I call 
opinion neuter. In many cases, though the facts known to us 
lean opposite ways, yet more of them — more in weight if not m 
number — lean one way than the other, so that there is some de- 
gree of belief. We have all degrees of belief, from mere possi- 
bility, to the strongest conviction. 



28 

I have here spoken of what I call rational belief. There is 
such a thing as sensitive belief. For instance, 1 perceive a man ; 
before me. This perception is, in its very self and alone, a sen- 
sitive belief, that a man is before me. I say no more of sensitive 
belief. 

I find that all the language of intellectual philosophy, and all in 
common use relating to mental operations, so called, is based as 
it were on the principle that man is a free agent ; and is calcu- 
lated to keep up this erroneous doctrine. Hence it is very diffi- 
cult for me to treat of the sensorial operations, so as not to be 
misunderstood. 

When I say a man thinks, believes, remembers, &c. I do not 
mean that he, as a free agent, does anything ; but that his senso- 
rial tendencies^ give rise to thoughts, just as all other causes give 
rise to their effects. 

When I advise a man to reflect on the conduct of his past life, 
what do I expect ? Not, surely, that he, as a free agent, will set 
himself about it, but that I, myself, set him about it. I expect 
my saying so to him, will set his thinking part a going that way ; 
and as his sensorial tendencies are related,' when one thought re- 
lating to his past conduct is caused to occur, others will follow. 

We talk about a man's changing his opinions. It is all false. 
No man upon earth ever changed his opinions. If his opinions 
have been really changed, new light alone has done it. Some- 
thing has created new sensorial tendencies, or changed the rela- 
tions between the old ones. 

Volition. By this word is meant the power of performing vol- 
untary motions. I must treat of it very briefly, first requesting 
you to consider that the word power is not the name of any thing 
distinct from a material substance, any more than strength is dis- 
tinct from a bar of iron. 

All voluntary motions are performed by the contraction of vol- 
untary muscles — which are fleshy bodies arising from some bones 
and passing their slender cord, like ends beyond joints, are in- 
serted into other bones. Nerves proceed from the brain either 
directly or indirectly, through the medium of the spinal marrow, 
to these muscles. When any of these nerves are divided or com- 
pressed in any part of their course, the muscles to which they go, 
cannot be caused to contract by any desire or willing of the indi- 
vidual ; hence the limb or other part, which is usually moved by 
the contractions of these muscles cannot now be moved. This 
and other facts prove that in our voluntary motions, something 
passes from the brain to the voluntary muscles, and facts which 
I have not time to state, prove that this something is an action of 



29 

i the nerves. It may or it may not be the same kind of action as 
that which proceeds from the organic to the sensorial extremity 
of a nerve in case of sensation. Yet I give it the same name — 
I call it a nervous action. 

Now you may talk as much about volition, desire, will, Stc. as 
you please, yet by duly investigating the subject, we shall come 
to the following ultimate facts, where, of course, we must stop, 
for there is nothing beyond them — to wit ; when certain con- 
scient actions of the sensorium occur, nervous actions in the sen- 
sorial extremities of certain nervous tracks set in or commence, 
and shoot along down to the voluntary muscles, which muscles 
instantly contract. The three ultimate facts I have now men- 
tioned, are the most important laws of volition. 

If time would permit, I would show what takes place when 
those sensorial actions occur which would cause a man to go to 
Boston, for instance, were it not that others occur which cause 
him to go to Albany. I would show that when a man has two de- 
sires at the same time, speaking after the common way, it is the 
strongest that puts him in motion. But if the one be exactly as 
strong as the other, he is in a quandary, and remains where he is 
until some new idea comes up to turn the scale. 

I would also show that many of our common motions are 
performed solely from what may be called habit, the thinking 
part having nothing to do with them, but to set the machine- 
ry a going which performs them. When a man is walking, 
very frequently that which thinks has nothing to do with putting 
one leg before the other, only when he alters his pace or changes 
his course. He may muse away upon some foreign subject, as 
uninterruptedly as if not walking — As the boy said, who acci- 
dentally whistled in school, " I did not whistle, it whistled." 

Those who profess to believe there is something in a man's head 
for the word will to signify, would probably treat, in connection 
with volition, of a little theological thing called free agency. But 
as I know nothing of the gentleman, and have no belief in his ex- 
istence, I sfiall not say much about him ; and considering what has 
been said, I trust I need not. A knowledge of facts is sufficient 
to destroy all belief in free agency. But there is one short argu- 
ment against it, which I defy the subtilties of theology to rebut, 
namely, there are no actions, changes, events, in a word, no effects 
without causes ; and one effect as necessarily follows its cause, be 
it within the head or without, as another. 

This is the argument. The inference is, that man, philosophi- 
cally speaking, is no more a free agent than a time-piece. No at- 
tempt, to my knowledge, has ever been made to refute this argu- 
es* 



30 

ment. The course pursued by those who wish not to have the 
doctrine of necessity prevail, is to blow at it, and attempt to make 
people believe that, according to this view, it is absurd to punish a 
man for crime. Whether they believe what they say, I know not j 
but if they do, they are indeed stupid. Punishment is not, and 
ought not to be vindictive ; it is designed to operate as a cause to 
prevent further crime ; and this it is calculated to, do, though man, 
philosophically speaking, is no more a free agent than a time-piece. 
It does not follow from this, as same have sneeringly insinuated, 
that it would be proper to punish a time-piece. Though man and 
a time-piece agree in one respect, that of not being free agents, still 
they differ very essentially in others. One is a piece of mechani- 
cal machinery, the other an organic machine. 

My friends, 1 claim the honor of being the first ta solve the mys- 
tery of Personal Identity. The question, What is it that consti- 
tutes the same man, more especially the same mental, the same 
thinking man ? is a question which philosophers have been unable 
to answer in a manner at all satisfactory, though the mental labor 
bestowed upon it has been immense. In theology, it has been con- 
sidered important as having a bearing on the doctrine of a future state, 
and also of rewards and punishments in that state. Perhaps there 
is no doctrine more clearly set forth m the New Testament than 
that of a resurrection of the body. Yet, inconsistent as it may ap- 
pear, theologists, who pretend to believe the bible is the ward of 
God j are not willing to rest the doctrine of a future state on that of 
resurrection. Andl apprehend that one great reason why they 
are not, is, because they are ignorant af what constitutes the same 
person. They see, that if ta be the same person, is to be compos- 
ed of the same matter, organized in the same form, then the resur- 
rection of the same person is a doctrine not to be defended. For, 
suppose a man die upon the field of battle, he is not buried, — his 
body becomes loam — then grass — then mutton, then man again ; 
this man dies, and the' same changes go over again, and again. So 
that the same matter composes not one only, but sevei^l persons at 
the time they die. Now if the same matter be essential to the 
same person, it is clear that all and the same persons who exist in 
this life, cannot exist in a future, if a future depend on a resurrec- 
tion of the body. 

In truth, however, the doctrine of resurrection is free of the par- 
ticular difficulty or objection I have just noticed, for the particles 
of matter which compose a man have nothing to do with his identity 
in any important sense of the term. All that is necessary to con- 
stitute the same man, to all' intents and purposes, is to have the 
same looking body, organized out of any matter, possessing the 
same sensorial tendencies. 



31 

Yes, it is sameness of sensorial tendencies, that constitutes men- 
tal sameness or identity, or, as I choose to express it, constitutes 
the same man to himself — the same thinking man. I need not 
occupy fifty octavo pages to substantiate my views of personal iden- 
tity, as others have done in setting forth and unsuccessfully defend- 
ing theirs. 

As sensorial tendencies give rise to all our thoughts, to satisfy 
yourselves of the truth of what I have said, you have but to reflect 
what would be the case if either two of you, say Timothy Trusty 
and Peter Grievous, were to exchange sensorial tendencies. 
Though there should be no change of outward form or look, and 
though each might look in a mirror, yet all creation could not make 
the Timothy Trusty man believe he is not Peter Grievous, and vice 
versa. The Timqthy Trusty man would think of every place the 
Peter Grievous man had ever been in, of every thing he had ever 
done, would claim the Peter Grievous property, would believe his 
name to be Peter Grievous ; in short, though he would own he 
looks like Timothy Trusty, yet it would be as impossible to make 
him believe he is not Peter Grievous, as it is to make any man be- 
lieve he is not his neighbor. 

We often speak of knowledge as something which a man has in 
his head. What is it ? Nothing more nor less than his sensorial 
tendencies* If people will continue to use the word mind, and the 
philosopher be compelled to grant it some meaning, what must he 
say ? Why, sensorial tendencies. As in astronomy, and some 
other branches of physics, attraction is every thing, so in the philo- 
sophy of thought, the sensorial tendencies are the whole machinery. 
And now let me show you that neither attraction nor sensorial ten- 
dencies are things conjectured or hypothetical. They are things 
of certainty. There is no conjecture about them. But should a 
man offer an opinion as to the nature of attraction,— should he say, 
for instance, that it is an effect or a manifestation of the electric 
fluid, he then offers an opinion, conjecture, or hypothesis, which 
may or may not he correct. But so long as he means by attraction 
only the fact or law of bodies, that bodies move so and so, under 
such and such circumstances, he is on sure ground — he has nothing 
to do with hypothesis. Now you recollect that I have said, that 
the sensorial tendencies are the more or less lasting effects, which 
perceptions produce upon the thinking part of man. Is here any 
conjecture or hypothesis ? Certainly not. For we do know from 
internal experience, as certainly as we know any thing from exter- 
nal experience, that perceptions do produce more or less lasting 
effects upon the thinking part of man. We know that having seen 
a thing, we can afterwards have an idea of it, such as we could not 



32 

have, had we not seen it. But when I say, the immediate seat of 
these effects is a material organ, I advance an opinion or hypothesis 
which is to be supported, and is supported by all the facts and ar- 
guments in favor of materialism, and I have not the least doubt of 
its correctness. Yet, strictly speaking, it is an hypothesis ; for I 
do not know it directly and immediately, either from external or in- 
ternal experience. I never saw a brain think, nor does the simple 
act of thinking, directly and of its very self, inform me what thinks. 
Yet the Scottish professors, as Reid and Stewart, have so blun- 
dered, as to take the simple fact that we think, as good and suffi- 
cient evidence, nay, positive proof, that man has a soul or mind, 
which is " not liable to be impaired by disease or mutilation of any ' 
of our organs." But since I know a man's ability to think is im- 
paired by disease of the brain, particularly of the lower part of it, I 
am much inclined to think that if his brain should be crushed, he 
could not think quite so well for it. 

My hearers, is it not strange that a class of men should have so 
long presumed to tell us how we are made, what sort of things we 
are, and what will become of us when we are dead, when they have 
never made man their study. A knowledge of man, as an animal, 
ought to lie as a foundation upon which all systems of morality, 
and all laws relating to the moral conduct of individuals, be founded. 
I think I promised to show what it is to see a ghost. It is sim- 
ply to have that action, not only of the sensorium, but of the optic 
nerves, occur without any external cause, that would be excited 
were the person, whose ghost you see, actually before you. 

If such action of the sensorium alone occur, you have but an 
idea of the person, and, as it is a very common thing, you are not 
alarmed. But it is so seldom that the nervous system gets so out 
of order that conscient actions of the nerves occur without impres- 
sions, and especially when awake, and the senses preoccupied by 
real impressions, that whenever they do occur, most people think 
the devil is after them. 

However, when external impressions are principally removed, 
the eyes closed, and the senses, as well as the sensorium, are 
quieted down into a state of inactivity, called sleep — nervous en- 
ergy accumulates ; and towards morning the man begins to wake 
up the inside. First his sensorium begins to act — and though a 
seeing seldom commences in the sensorial extremity of the 
optic nerves, while impressions are acting upon the organic ex- 
tremity, yet in this state, a conscient action commencing in the 
sensorium extends into the optic nerves — and, the man don't see 
a ghost to be sure, because we do not call it such, but he sees 
the person himself. He is not alarmed, however, as it is not un 
common to see a person in a dream. 



33 

Conscience is a little gentleman so much talked of, that I must 
take some notice of him. 

There is a system of nerves within the body, of which I have 
1 not, and shall not attempt to give you any idea. These nerves 
1 are unquestionably the seat of many, not very distinct feelings 
j which may be called emotions, or moral passions. Were I to 
j speak physiologically, I should call them sensorial passions, be- 
cause they are connected with certain sensorial actions or ideas 
as their cause. These ideas are such as relate to our happiness 
or misery. It is a law of the animal economy, that when these 
ideas occur, the internal sensations I speak of, arise just as all 
other effects follow their causes. When ideas of suffering arise, 
the sensation, emotion, or feeling, which arises is generally called 
sorrow. But if the suffering thought of, is to be experienced in 
a future state, if experienced at all, it is called conscience. 

Conscience then, depends on education so far as this, — namely, 
if a man be so educated as to believe that such and such deeds 
will be followed by future misery ; when he does, or thinks of 
doing those deeds, the emotion called conscience will arise — it 
will arise in nervous and exhausted systems much more readily 
than in others. It is no matter what the deeds are, whether 
swearing or whistling, murdering, dancing or hoeing potatoes ; 
Nor is his conscience any sort of evidence that he will suffer for 
doing the deeds. It is only evidence that he believes, fears, or ap- 
prehends that he shall. Nor are any of those internal feelings ex- 
perienced by religionists, the least evidence in favour of the truth 
of what they believe. They are only evidence that they do be- 
lieve. Only inform a man that he has drawn a prize of $10,000, 
in such a manner that he will believe, and his feelings will be 
the same, whether in reality he has or has not. 

The subjects glanced at in these lectures, together with many 
others, are much more fully treated of in " Modern Materialism," 
a work which I published four years ago. It is of course, not 
calculated to please religionists ; and as it is a little bespattered 
with theology, it does not altogether suit the free inquirers of the 
present day. Very little pains have been taken to bring the 
work before the public ; (for I once knew so little of the world 
as to believe truth would work its own way,) but unless I am 
somewhat brain- cracked in relation to this work, while I am ad- 
mitted to be sane in relation to the common affairs of life — it con- 
tains many important and original ideas, which will sometime or 
other attract the attention of some man, who has that knowledge 
of physiology, and metaphysical speculations, which is necessary 
to a due appreciation of the merits of the work. 



tip 



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